Our voyage back to "God's country," by which term of endearment the American traveling abroad often refers to the United States, was by no means a pleasant one, as we encountered heavy weather from the start, the "Adriatic" running into a storm immediately after leaving Queenstown that lasted for two days and two nights, during which time we made but slow progress, and as a result there were a good many vacant seats at the table when mealtimes came. A storm at sea is always an inspiring sight, and it was a pleasure to those of us who were lucky enough to have our sealegs on to watch the big ship bury her nose in the mountainous waves, scattering the spray in great clouds and then rising again as buoyantly as the proverbial cork. The decks were not a pleasant point of vantage, however, even for the most enthusiastic admirer of nature, as a big wave would now and then break over the forward part of the vessel, drenching everything and everybody within reach and making the decks as slippery as a well-waxed ballroom. I had quit smoking some time before starting on this trip and was therefore deprived of blowing a cloud with which to drive dull care away during the tedious days that followed. Like the rest of the party, too, once started I was impatient to reach home again, and for that reason the slow progress that we made the first few days was not greatly to my liking. The weather moderated at the end of forty-eight hours, and though the waves still wore their night-caps and were too playful to go to bed, they occasioned us but little annoyance and we bowled along over the Atlantic in merry fashion, killing time by spinning yarns, playing poker and taking a turn at the roulette wheel which Fred Carroll had purchased at Nice to remind him of his experience at Monte Carlo. At a very early hour on Saturday morning, April 6, we were off Fire Island, and sunrise found us opposite quarantine.